


In the Madness and Soil

by Elysian_Wyrd



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Angst, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, M/M, Past prostitution mention, Post DMC5, Twincest, slight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 20:37:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18431642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elysian_Wyrd/pseuds/Elysian_Wyrd
Summary: “Never seek to tell thy love,Love that never told can be;For the gentle wind does moveSilently, invisibly.”He didn't see the next kiss coming; it stole the breath from his aching lungs. He lost himself to it in a way he'd never managed with anything else, try as he might, and there was an undeniable beauty in it. The way the past and future fell away to reveal only this moment, suspended in time like morning dew in a spider's web. For years he'd pursued Lethean distraction, sweet anodynes, yet here was a nepenthe that could soothe even the most mortal of psychic wounds.





	In the Madness and Soil

_[You speak, and the distance bleeds between us in bitter revelation, necessary and tragic and vast. We are pilgrims orbiting unfamiliar stars, but what we find in the darkness will have meaning only to us. The age old question trickles down our awareness-- a gift of generations --are we alone in the spiraling void of our experience? I have found no answers here, only more of the great, seething emptiness that plagues my narrow vision. If there is life, I have known it only dimly, in the shadow of satellites. I have given much to be here, yet the question remains. Are we alone? The silence in reply is a sweet music, omnipresent and daunting in its scope.]_

His throat was filled with blackened ash and graveyard dirt. He choked on it hard, tossed another swig back to drown out the taste. It didn’t go away. Somewhere in the volatile expanse of Dante’s consciousness, a name stirred, tickling the neurons until they hissed like fireworks. Or maybe it was a face. It didn’t make any difference to him which; enough Jack would drown them both in a watery grave. He stretched languidly; head back, chest out, legs crossed atop the desk, and arms hanging, useless, above the ground.

_They were children of eight years old, scarce months before the event that would bring them to ruin. The unseasonable cold shuddered through Dante’s body, until Vergil laid his arm across his brother’s shoulders, thumbed at the fraying stitching of his shirt as though it bore incredible significance. The lightning bugs were phosphorescent flickers in the dusk sky; dying stars, falling angels, casting their green diaphanous glory upon the twins, ringing them like haloed saints. Dante shifted his weight as he watched the insects in their amorous dance, leaned into Vergil’s unwavering stability, and sighed great puffs of silver-streaming air. He thought those nights— with their radiant yellow-orange-violets beneath waning suns and gentle backlit clouds, damp air filled with the hollow drumming of little wings and the perfumed scent of crushed wildflowers –would never end. No matter the dramatics that came before; the fights and indignities, the disagreements and petty cruelties, they could find each other there. So when his brother brushed the hair from his eyes with the casual swipe of a finger, when he whispered those words he never thought to hear, he simply shook his head and smiled. It was the last time he ever felt warm._

_He saw him, once, five years later. Late night, back alley, looking for a fight. His brother wore a grime-stained hoodie, beatific visage shrouded; clouds before a full-bright moon. His clothes were worn down, soiled, aged. Too late, Dante realized he was being tailed, or perhaps it was the realization itself that set Vergil to motion.The wind was knocked out of him and he was against the wall, an arm at his throat. The mist of their breath rose as one in the cold night air. He was awash with unexpected, if not unwelcome, sensation. The touch of a thumb, trailing down his cheek. A sardonic laugh. The scent of him, familiar yet so remote; lily-leather-musk, woody spice, with an undercurrent of… yeah, okay, that was probably the filthy clothes. He felt like a kid again, mining for stardust, heart caught adrift in some celestial tide._

_Then his brother was walking away. Always, away._

_“We are children of a dying star, you and I;” he said, and Dante could smell the gin from across the distance, “we have no future.” And, just like that, he disappeared within the crowded city streets._

_Dante ran, and he ran, but he could never catch up._

_It was another five years until he saw him again, and some part of him wished that he hadn’t. That he had kept his memory clean; collusion with demons was a sin too dire to forget, and Dante was fresh out of forgiveness._

_They were in each other’s space, like always. “We all are,” Dante said._

_“Excuse me?”_

_“Children of a dying star— we all are. Our time’s finite, that’s why we gotta make the most of it.”_

_He laughed indulgently, shook his head._

_Dante leant onto his toes, hands behind his back; stretching.His eyes kept falling to Vergil’s lips. “This isn’t making the most of it.”_

_“I would disagree.”_

_“Our mom was killed by demons,” he forced himself to say._

_“I know.” He started pacing, eyes distant. “Not long ago, I learned something—something important. There was a man who favored me. I worked at a club and saw him every day. ‘That’s good,’ they said of his attentions, ‘you’ll see.’ So I did. Cash up front. It was an easy sell. Just like that, I was handed off. I didn't fight it; I needed the money.” It was said so matter-of-factly, Dante prayed he’d misheard. His heart was a collapsing star. “Yes, that night I learned that men can be crueler than any demon. That touch is a weapon, hope a brittle bauble, and words, bittersweet deception.Such it is in this world. They do not deserve the space they occupy, brother.”_

_Flayed lungs throbbed in time with an aching heart, wet beneath the weight of blood and tears. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, doused the anger behind his eyes. In the next moment his arms were around his brother, squeezing tightly. The air left Vergil in a huff, and his eyes widened, then refocused. He didn’t return the embrace, but neither did he flee it._

_“Vergil. I’m so sorry,” he said. “Shit. And where was I?” he added in a whisper, “I wish I had been there.”_

_“Then there would have been two broken souls instead of one.” A pause, the tilt of a head, “Then perhaps you would be on my side.”_

_“I’ve always been on your side, Verge. But,” he said, struggling to breathe— in, out, in, out –we can’t do this. It’s wrong. It’s_ wrong _.” He was overwhelmed. The night seemed darker than usual. He backed away, hands digging into his hair._

_Vergil, too, retreated. “Fine. Rot with your humans,” he said, waving a hand in disgust. And then he was gone._

A shudder wracked his frame as the evening grew colder by degrees. The heat was off, again. He felt the chill down to the bone.

 _A year had passed. Vergil grinned before him. It was a wild, sharp thing, all teeth and bite and joyous destruction. Force Edge was low at his side, poised and eager. Rebellion ached with want and battle lust: the sweet release of its opponent’s blood all that could sate its growing hunger._ His _hunger. He smiled wide, and drew himself into a loose battle stance._

A tune was playing on the radio. He could only just hear the words through the static: “ _I close my eyes, and I think of you…your memory blazes through me, burning everything.”_

_Force Edge lay discarded in the water behind them. Dante had bested him. Vergil’s lip curled, and the obvious indignation had him, fingers bent like claws, slam Dante against the nearest wall and pin him there. He met Dante’s eyes, cocked his head, and frowned._

_“I will not face defeat— not anymore. I am not so weak,” Vergil hissed._

_“You’d better get used to it,_ weakling _, cause I just defeated you,” Dante replied._

_Vergil roared, grabbed Dante’s wrists above his head and smashed them into the wall, hard enough to bruise. If he were human, the marks would become telling reminders for many days to come. Oh, to be human._

_They were close now, so close, and Dante hadn’t moved a muscle. Hadn’t made a single effort to protect himself. It only took him a moment to notice their proximity; the commingling of their hot breath, the slant of their shoulders, the way their bodies pressed neatly together. He blinked, pupils dilating like a cat when it’s onto a mouse._

_“Verge,” Dante said, and there was a question in it. Worry-worn lips parted over a gasp. He noted, with some surprise, that his own voice came out broken. Traitorous._

_“Dante,” he answered, breath coming out a touch too hard, too ragged._

_“You’re gonna make me think you’ve got a thing for being beaten, you know,” he said. He was smiling, brow raised.Muscles straining, he went through the motions of fighting his captivity ;eyes blazing, body pressed tight against his brother from chest to hip. Vergil's tongue darted out to wet his lips, and his eyes tracked the motion with unparalleled interest._

_“_ You _clearly do,” he said, as his nails dug welting crescents into the vulnerable flesh of Dante’s wrists. “What happened to your conscience, hmm? ’It's wrong, it's wrong_?' And what is this?”

_“Fuck conscience.” He jutted an exploratory leg between Vergil’s thighs, just to shut him up, and oh, God, that was good. The way Vergil’s eyes rolled back and his head pitched minutely forward, open-mouthed, slack-jawed. The way he groaned. “Back then, I promised not to waste our time on any bullshit.Not again. I don't see why that should change. That conscience business… just sounds like another word for bullshit.” Dante felt off-balance; dizzy. In a clutch for stability he leant forward, his forehead coming to rest against Vergil’s. This man always left him gasping for breath._

_Vergil was looking at him, again, with a heavy-lidded, off-putting intensity. So Dante did the only thing that came to mind: he brought their lips together with abandon—feral, fierce –drawing blood as teeth and flesh met. It was forceful and jarring, much like their erstwhile battle. He moaned against the foreign softness of Vergil’s lips as they pressed back against him. It was a brief, rough kiss that left them both winded. Vergil— evidently impatient– pushed him down, back to the wall, straddling him._

_“Whoah, whoah,” Dante said. His heart was in his throat; with every jagged breath, he bled a little deeper. The vulnerability of the moment was almost too much to bear. “We should do this right. On a bed, with candles, and –“_

_“Spare me your theatrics, brother,” he interrupted, a smile hitting his eyes, “This is fine.”_

_“But this is_ special _,” he whined._

_“Yes, it is,” he said, meeting his gaze coolly, earnest._

_“O-kay.” He broke eye contact, focusing instead on the pulse of water surging around them. He didn't see the next kiss coming; it stole the breath from his aching lungs. He lost himself to it in a way he'd never managed with anything else, try as he might, and there was an undeniable beauty in it. The way the past and future fell away to reveal only this moment, suspended in time like morning dew in a spider's web. For years he'd pursued Lethean distraction, sweet anodynes, yet here was a nepenthe that could soothe even the most mortal of psychic wounds. He took his time, savoring his brother's silken lips, the play of the tongue across his own, which retreated only too soon. He chased after it hungrily, licking and nipping, plundering the mouth that would dare to hide such a treasure from his reach. When they parted for breath, noses brushing, he couldn't help the smile that broke wide across his face._

_“I could stay like this,” Vergil whispered, his hand rising to tangle in Dante’s hair, their lips barely a breath apart._

“Like hell, bro,” he scoffed, and lobbed the lowball at the radio with enough force for both to shatter, raining glass and twisted plastic to the floor in an explosion of light and sound. It was time he graduated to the bottle, anyway; there were bad nights, and there were _bad_ nights. Tonight was shaping up to be the latter.

_“We should have done this sooner,” Vergil said, “So much wasted breath lies between us.”_

_“Done what?” Dante asked, raising a brow. Half mocking, half serious. “What are we doing, Verge?”_

_“You don’t understand,” Vergil said, backing away hurriedly, pacing, “We should have done this sooner. It’s too late, now.”_

_“What? It’s never ‘_ too late _.’”_

 _“It is for us.” The portal was closing, the roof giving way. ”I know what I must do. Go. Flee._ Live.” _He smiled sadly. “Hurry. Live. Do it for your big brother, alright? And when the sun sets and business trickles—” this caused Dante to scowl –“you can look to the horizon with confidence. Hope. You will be happy, Dante. I know it.”_

 _“I_ was _happy, you asshole! Right now!”_

_“I’m sorry, Dante. This I must do. But first, permit me this selfishness.” He rushed forward, capturing Dante’s lips in a brusque kiss, redolent of desperation. Then he was stalking backwards, backwards, ever closer to the edge.Until, once more, he was gone. Dante reached out in vain, felt the kiss of metal hot against his palm._

This changes everything. It changes nothing.  _Dante watched icy water sluice through the dense fog as Vergil fell inexorably downward, until he faded from view, subsumed by the reddening haze of mist. Droplets of blood welled from the cut in his hand, dripped down the chasm to chase after his fool brother. He let his arm fall to his side, clutching at air. The quiet was broad, the nothingness overwhelming. This was how it ended, after all. In silence and shadow._

He swore he heard someone calling his name nearby. His hands twitched to the gun that rested upon the desk, but no one was there—just the too-empty shop. He gave a half-hearted shrug. Trish or Lady would find him like this in the morning, or the next. That was just fine. He stilled his hands, coughed, and took another gulp.

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, I haven't posted in ages. Hey, y'all! I feel effusively self-conscious for lots of reasons, but here goes nothing. Updates will probably be slow, because I am slow, heh. <3


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